


The Queen's Speech

by Farbautidottir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arguing, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Pregnancy, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24077458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farbautidottir/pseuds/Farbautidottir
Summary: After the tragic loss of their parents, Lily and Petunia meet to clean out their parents’ house. Other than at the funeral, it’s the first time they’ve seen each other since their husbands’ colossal fight during their introductory dinner last year.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	The Queen's Speech

Lily watched from the front stoop as her older sister parked her shiny new sedan in the driveway of their parents’ house in Cokeworth. Petunia was not dressed appropriately for the occasion, heels and a floral skirt visible from under her mid-length, fur-lined coat. Despite the January chill, she wore no hat. Her blonde hair was fashioned meticulously into what Lily assumed to be the popular Muggle look these days.

“Oh, good, you’re already here,” Petunia said once she saw Lily. “Let’s get inside before anyone sees us. I simply cannot stand the pitying looks people give me these days now that I’m an orphan.”

Lily unlocked the door wordlessly. _Orphan_. She rolled the word in her mind. It was one typically reserved for children, not people who were nineteen and twenty-one like them. It wasn’t a word she’d assigned herself, though it did not surprise her Petunia had for the attention. Still, there was no denying its truth. Their parents had died on Boxing Day when they’d hit a patch of black ice and the car overturned. The funeral was the first time she’d seen Petunia since their husbands’ colossal fight at their introductory dinner that summer. Now, three surreal weeks later, the funeral and burial were done, and they were here to clean out their parents’ house so they could sell it.

They hung their coats on the rack as they always had as girls, and a tingle of hope passed through Lily as she wondered if things might be able to go back to how they were before her Hogwarts letter ever arrived. She draped her scarf and knit hat over the hook between her father’s walking cap and her mother’s lightweight scarf. For the briefest of moments, she expected them to be inside, just out of sight in the kitchen or upstairs. She sighed sadly and turned to her sister. Without a coat to cover it, the small bump protruding from Petunia’s fitted blouse was evident.

“Oh, you look so much further along than me!” Lily exclaimed. She still fit easily into her normal jeans.

“Yes, well, I think I am five weeks ahead of you. Unless you told Mum and Dad the wrong dates?”

“No, I’m nearly ten weeks along.”

Petunia pressed her thin lips into a flat line, the way she did when judging someone.

“Well, I can’t stay long. I’m meeting Marge for lunch at this quaint little inn she found outside Birmingham. Bless her, her work forced her up there for a conference. Can you imagine? It simply sounds dreadful.”

“It really does,” Lily replied honestly. Despite its convenience to Cokeworth, she’d never liked Birmingham much. Vernon’s sister Marge, however, was a much worse prospect than the nearby city.

The sisters looked around the house, unsure where to even begin. They’d barely even moved out, most of their remaining childhood things still tucked away in their old bedrooms.

“I forgot the Christmas decorations would still be up,” Petunia said quietly.

Lily reached out to squeeze her hand, but Petunia moved away. Lily’s resolve to patch things up with her sister by the end of the day deepened. She was the only tie she had left to the Muggle world now, and some silly argument between their husbands wasn’t about to stop her from holding onto that.

“Shall we divide and conquer then? Start in our own rooms and go from there?” Lily suggested, assuming their own stuff would be easier to deal with than their parents’ stuff.

“Yes, that works for me. I’ll grab us some bin bags.”

Petunia returned from the kitchen with a box of them, and they each took a few then set off upstairs for their bedrooms. An hour later, Lily had finished up and wandered across the narrow hallway to her sister’s old room. She rapped lightly on the doorframe as Petunia tied a fourth bin bag.

“Lots of rubbish in here,” she said, her voice cracking slightly with emotion.

“Yes, I used three bags for mine. We’ll probably need to get more, and some boxes for donations.” Lily sat on the bed. “Listen, I wanted to apologize again for the dinner. James really meant nothing offensive to Vernon. He’s sometimes…Well, you know how men can be showy at times.”

“There is a difference between showy and rude.” Petunia bristled.

“You’re right. And I’m sorry James’ behavior was perceived as rude.” Lily groaned at herself. As far as apologies went, this one was about as lousy as the first time she’d tried apologizing for it.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m here to clean out our parents’ house, not discuss your husband’s lack of manners. It is clear how he feels about Vernon and me.” Petunia reached to haul up a full bin bag but succeeded in lifting it only an inch or so off the carpet.

“Let me help,” Lily said, her hand moving towards the pocket that held her wand.

“I’ll have Vernon clear out the rubbish once we’re done,” Petunia said with a light huff. She swept from the room and called back from the landing. “Come! Let’s start on the Christmas decorations. I cannot bear the sight of them.”

Lily followed, leaving her wand stowed away, and they were back in the living room surrounded by fake holly and seasonal candy tins. The table that typically held their mother’s formal vase was covered in a doily with the Nativity scene laid out upon it. The Christmas tree, however, was the most ominous item of the lot. Its colorful glass ornaments glistened in the beam of sunlight cutting through the slit between the front window’s drapes.

Petunia hurried to open the drapes murmuring something about it being gloomily dark inside.

“Much better,” Lily said as the sunshine streamed in.

“Yes, now we can actually see.”

They hesitated, looking all around again, as if the room would somehow be less overwhelming this time. Lily spotted the VCR she’d gifted her parents set up on the television stand. Their old Betamax player sat beside it unplugged.

“Did you watch the Queen’s speech with the Dursleys?” Lily asked, guilt fanning through her.

It was their longstanding tradition to watch the Queen’s speech with their mother while their father smoked his Christmas cigar in the garden. This year, however, both girls had obligations to their in-laws at three o’clock when the Christmas message was always delivered. The Potters didn’t have a TV though, so Lily hadn’t seen it. Her mother had offered to tape it for her on the new VCR so she could come by on a later day to watch it together. Lily swallowed the lump in her throat as she realized that day would never come.

“Yes, it was wonderful. Vernon’s mother felt it was the best in years. What did you think of it?”

“Oh, I was unable to watch this year,” Lily mumbled.

“Well, I’m sure you can find a copy of the transcript somewhere.” Petunia shrugged, her mouth pressing into that straight line again.

She wandered towards the television, picking up a nicely framed photograph of their parents on their wedding day. Petunia smiled, about to set it back down when her attention was drawn to the display cupboard next to the television stand.

“Oh, I forgot all about this!” she exclaimed, opening the glass door and picking up the Lladró figurine of a mother reading a book to her daughter. “I always loved it as a girl. You don’t mind if I keep it?”

Lily shook her head. She’d always found the figurine too old fashioned for her tastes.

“Thanks!” Petunia sang, her smile bright as the winter sun.

She held up the figurine to better admire it. Suddenly it slipped from her fingers and smashed on the wood floor, shattering into a dozen jagged pieces at her feet. An anxious pause followed, then Petunia burst into childlike tears.

“Oh, Tuni, don’t cry! I can fix it. I’ll fix it.” Lily put a comforting arm around her wailing sister.

She pulled out her wand and quickly cast, “ _Reparo_.”

The porcelain flew back together, the figurine fully repaired, but Petunia wrenched herself from Lily’s touch.

“Get that thing away from us!” she shrieked, damp eyes bulging from her slender face. Her hand wrapped protectively around her stomach and she glared in horror at Lily’s wand as if she wielded a dagger instead.

“What is _wrong_ with you?!” Lily cried, sheathing her wand out of sight as she stooped to retrieve the figurine. “How could you think I would _ever_ try to hurt you or your child?”

“You’re unnatural!” Petunia’s voice grew shriller. “You…you…you’re an abomination!”

“What?” It came out as a whisper.

The horrendous memory of Avery and Severus rushed forward. _That Evans is an abomination, Severus. She shouldn’t exist._ Avery had said it right in front of her, and Severus hadn’t defended her. He’d done nothing at all. Then he’d joined their ranks. The people who sought to snuff her out.

“You’re a stain on their very memory,” Petunia continued, clutching tightly to the gilded frame of the wedding photograph.

Lily reeled. She hurriedly set down the figurine so she wouldn’t break it in her anger.

“You’re exactly like them. The irony!” she bit out.

“Like who?”

“The Death Eaters. The neo-Nazis who want to purge the world of people like me.”

“What? Like the Witchfinders?” Petunia’s eyes widened in what appeared to be excitement.

Lily guffawed a single icy laugh. Professor Binns’ lessons on witch-hunts and witch burnings flitted through her mind. Her lip curled in disgust and her voice chilled when she replied.

“Oh, you would love that, wouldn’t you? I can just imagine your lump of a husband calling himself Witchfinder General and strutting about like the self-important prick he is. But no, it’s quite the opposite of that. The Death Eaters want to kill anyone who _isn’t_ a pureblood witch. They want to kill me. To kill you. There’s a war happening, right here and right now. It’s hidden in plain sight.”

“You’ve really lost it now, Lils. A secret war? Honestly, Vernon was right, you should be committed, right along with that strange husband of yours.”

“Committed?” Lily laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of the attention. Everything always has to be about you. You couldn’t even wait for me to share the news of my pregnancy with Mum first. You had to be the focus,” Petunia hissed before protruding out her long neck so she could better look down on Lily. “But not anymore. No one is left who thinks you’re _special_ now. Oh no, Vernon and I can see you quite plainly for what you are—a freak.”

“You think I want to be _special_? That my life has been easy? That nearly everyone at Hogwarts didn’t call me a freak for being from a Muggle family? Most of them hate me simply for existing. Trust me, I’d rather not be special at all. I’d rather be exactly like everyone else. I’d rather be normal like you. Instead I live under constant threat and now so does my husband because he married someone like me.

“So, you have no reason to be jealous of me, Tuni. You have your perfect little life like you always wanted. A dull, sturdy husband who sells drills and buys you shiny new things and a nice house in a safe neighborhood. Far from the dangers of the city, the smokestacks of Cokeworth, the grim truths of this world. He’s whisked you far from reality, exactly where you always wanted to reside. I hope you’re happy.”

“Enough!” Petunia screeched, saliva flying from her mouth. “I will not hear another word. I came here to clean out my parents’ house, not be lectured by some freak.”

Lily seethed. They were her parents, too. Before she could protest, Petunia started in again with unrelenting resolve.

“I don’t care about your delusional life of terror. I don’t care about this secret war you claim to be happening. I want nothing to do with you and your weird little family. When you have your baby, I don’t want to know. Don’t send me a birth announcement. Don’t contact me ever again.”

“Petunia, stop—” Lily tried.

“And you know what else, Lily?” Petunia’s eyes darkened. “I hope these…these Witchfinder Death Eater people do come for you. I hope they make you and your horrendous husband stand trial for your crimes.”

“You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that,” Lily said desperately.

“And when their justice is served,” Petunia continued, her eyes hostile slits. “I hope that you burn.”

Lily’s breath left her. She watched mutely as Petunia put on her coat and marched out the front door, closing it gently behind her as she left, as if nothing had transpired that was out of the ordinary.

The vacated space felt unbearably cold. Lily collapsed to the floor, hands grasping for anything soft. Her fingers closed on her mother’s afghan and she wrapped it tightly around her, shielding herself in a crocheted cocoon as the sobs began. They rose painfully in her chest, exiting in heaves that shook her frame violently until she no longer could hold onto the blanket. It slid off her unceremoniously, leaving no barrier between her and the empty house. She was alone. A stranger in a place she once knew as her home. All ties to the Muggle world severed in a matter of weeks.

“One of the main objectives of Heads of Government is to make the world a better place for the next generation,” said a woman’s voice from in front of her.

Lily blinked the tears from her eyelashes to see Queen Elizabeth speaking to her from the television.

“1979 has been the International Year of the Child and the Commonwealth has always stressed the importance of our young people.”

She gathered the afghan back to her shoulders, using a corner to mop her face. The Queen’s speech continued before her, the red light on the VCR indicating it was playing a tape. Her mother had recorded it after all.

Lily realized her magic must have surged as she’d sobbed, interrupting the electrical currents and turning on the devices. Sure enough, the floor lamp by the sofa was now switched on as well.

She sat there in silence, a heap of knitwork and knotted auburn hair on the living room floor, listening intently as Queen Elizabeth updated her on the prior year and the state of the Commonwealth. It slowly dawned on her that it was her Commonwealth, too. She belonged to it. She belonged to this version of Britain. She wasn’t one thing or the other, as Petunia or Avery might think. She was both.

“In the end, each one of us has a primary and personal responsibility for our own children, for children entrusted to our care and for all the children in our own communities,” the Queen said.

Lily’s hand fell to her lower abdomen, where her child grew inside her. She took a deep breath.

“I will always care for you,” she said in a strong, sure voice. “And if anyone ever hopes that you burn, then they will feel the wrath of my love for you instead.”

The television and floor lamp flickered and shut off. With her emotions now controlled, her magic no longer interfered with the electrical currents.

**Author's Note:**

> Citation: Dialogue from the Queen of England is from The Queen’s Christmas Broadcast given by Queen Elizabeth II on 25 December 1979.


End file.
